11th Ulriczeit 2511 (Wellentag): Fire!, A Warning, Backstory, Mistaken Delivery, Splash!, Failed Hunt and a Frantic Visitor

Gunnar’s dream was smoke-filled, haunted with hazy images of times almost forgotten. He awoke to the acrid smell of smoke, not the familiar tang of a cooking fire, but something more sinister. He jumped from the bed, an unnatural orange glow visible through the grimy window. “Fire!”, he yelled, rousing Salundra and Ferdinand. They quickly threw on gear and moved down to the bar. “It’s a couple of streets over,” Franz said, as he threw on a jacket and made to leave, “a tenement building, I think.” They followed him to a nearby building. Indeed a tall house with a butchers in the basement was aflame. The standing snow had cleared in a radius of about five yards out from the intense heat of the fire.

Without hesitation Salundra and Ferdinand began to organise a bucket chain. Buckets materialised from everywhere, their previous contents tipped out. It took a bit of organisation, but the water began to move from the river. Screams could be heard from within the building, there were children in there. Gunnar grabbed one of the first buckets and doused himself and made to enter the building. Flames lashed out, a backdraft filling the doorway with fire. Gunnar ordered the first buckets against the doorway and launched himself into the building. Up the first flight of stairs he discovered a mother sheltering two children. She was coughing badly. His initial attempt to secure her was met with panicked resistance. He bellowed, snapping her out of it. He grabbed them up, kids in one arm and the woman over his shoulder. He made for the nearest exit… a first floor window. He smashed through the frame, almost catching his foot, but he managed to right himself in the air, twisting to protect the family from the impact. He smashed into the ground, grazing shoulders, but the family were safe.

The bucket chain was a model of military precision, water quickly making its way from river to fire. Another yell was heard from inside. Gunnar readied himself to enter again. The ground floor flames were much reduced and he proceeded to the first floor, hearing a man yelling from above. Just as he was about to climb upwards part of the ceiling and the stairs collapsed, burning rafters clipping him on the shoulder. The man, a lean figure with a distinctive scar over his right eye, appeared at the top of the collapsed stairs. Gunnar ordered him to jump, but the man hesitated. “Jump! Dammit!”, Gunnar called and the man mustered some courage. It was a weak and poorly executed jump, sending him careening into Gunnar. They fell in a heap, the man stunned by the fall. Gunnar scooped him up, and made his way out.

Seeing that the fire might spread to adjoining structures, Ferdinand and Salundra organised for the bucket chain to move into the building. Following their lead, the residents moved in. After about half an hour the fire was brought under control. The snow was still coming down heavily and it helped to dampen the flames from above, but the buckets had done the hard work.

The party were pleased to see the neighbourly support out in force. Everywhere people were being led away, blankets around shoulders. Food appearing for anyone who needed it. Satisfied that things were under control, they made to move towards the Red Moon Inn.

“Mistress Von Drakenburg,” intoned in a measured low voice, stopped them in their tracks. They turned to see a tall figure wearing a long hooded cap. He drew the hood down, revealing a sharp face, bespectacled grey eyes and a clean shaven head. “I’m surprised to see you back in the city. Ubersreik is very unstable at the moment; bad things happen to good people when things are unstable.” He glanced in the direction of the burned out building, the implication clear. He levelled his gaze at her, “I think you should leave here.” The recognition in Salundra’s face was clear to see. Before he stepped away, she challenged him, “Rikard, nothing you do has ever been of help to me. All you do is take.” Rikard grinned and stepped back into the shadows. Salundra ran, but he was gone.

Shaken by the morning’s events and by the strange encounter, the Red Moon Inn offered a comforting welcome. The smells of cooking greeted them as they took a table in silence. Not able to hold his tongue (or his appetite) any longer, Gunnar ordered food and then said, “So lassie, what was that all about?” Salundra raised her eyes from the table, looking from him to Ferdinand. She struggled to speak. When words came, they were halting, most unlike her. “He’s someone from my past, a dangerous man”, she glanced around, conscious of being surrounded by strange ears. Ferdinand and Gunnar looked at each other, knowing there was only so much they can push, but Gunnar was a little unsettled. He’d known her for over four years and none of this part of her past had ever been mentioned. He placed his meaty hand over her’s, knowing whatever this was, it was difficult. Salundra was struggling to continue when Eugen, with the typical grace of a twelve year old, clunked three tankards down in front of the party, snapping them back to the moment. When the food arrived, Gunnar suggested they take it to the room where they may be able to talk. Walking those stairs was hard for Salundra… she didn’t know what to say to her companions.

They sat in silence for a while, Gunnar and Ferdinand half eating thei breakfasts, mostly for something to do in the awkwardness. Salundra just stared out the window, food untouched. “So?”, was the gentlest of nudges Gunnar could give. She looked to them. “Rikard Fischer is the Agent of Graf Sigismund von Jungfreud. He is a cold, calculating and dangerous man. He makes things happen with his position of power sometimes under the pretence of kindness. This couldn’t be further from the truth.” She breaks their gaze… “Fischer is a old link to something I need to finish.”

A sudden knock on the door causes the party to jump. At the door is a dripping wet courier, carrying a wrapped and sealed box. “Miss Drakenbur?”, he says looking to Salundra. “I been lookin’ for you, some folks told me to look for a woman fitting you description when I gave them your name. Ya know, big hat, big hair and fancy duds… anyway, I gots this for you,” he says passing the parcel to Salundra. She takes it reluctantly, but the courier seems sincere. She tosses him a pfennig or two and he departs, seeming to be more than happy to distance himself from the package. They place it on a chair and examine it. It has travelled some distance judging by the wax seals, but it’s hard to discern from where. Ferdinand gets a very strong negative feeling from the box. There is something deeply wrong with it. Slowly, carefully they unwrap it, noting the smudged delivery label. The name and city could be “Miss von Drakenburg, Ubersreik”, but it’s been smudged by the wet snow, leaving a ‘V’ and parts of the surname discernible. Only the city was still clear.

The unwrapping reveals a smooth, beautifully crafted, dark stained box with sigils subtly etched into the surface. Mysteriously there is no obvious way to open it. In turn, each of them examine it, Ferdinand determining that the sigils have a Nehekharan origin. They debate what to do. It seems implausible that this box could have been dispatched within the last week, which is all the time they’ve spent in Ubersreik. Is it a trap? What are these dark energies that Ferdinand senses? Should they just throw it into the river?

Gunnar loses patience with the debating and swings his axe down, smashing open the dark wood box, the sound of smashing contents coming with the destruction. The party inspect the musty smells remains: a black urn is intact, as is a small leather pouch, but the other jars have been broken, their contents mixed in the bottom of the box. Ferdinand gets a strong sense of magick from the remnants, almost like a spell has been triggered when they were disturbed. The black urn has waves of dhar emanating from it – it is something unspeakably bad. Salundra picks out the leather pouch and reluctantly looks inside, finding small finger bones. This disturbs her, but she keeps herself together. Ferdinand inspects it and reckons there are the hand bones of several (small) individuals in the pouch. Gunnar inspects the urn, it’s a little too large to fit comfortably in one hand, stoppered by a cork at the top, jet black in colour with the red head of a jackal painted on the side. None of the party want to open it. Their discussion is brief and they decide to dispose of it in the river…

On their way out, they cast the remnants of the box on the fire in the barroom of the Red Moon Inn, only the pouch and urn being kept. The fumes are instant and noxious, causing young Eugen to have to run out the door to empty his stomach. Franz yells abuse after them, but they make haste along the docks toward the bridge. As hastily as possible they cast the urn into the river, where it sinks instantly into the murky waters.

It is still snowing heavily as they make to return to the inn. As they walk Gunnar spots something protruding from the sewers, identifying it as whatever he had seen before. They hastily seek entry to the sewers, but it takes time to find a manhole with the snow covering. Ferdinand is cautious, but his will carrier him down the ladder, casting a glowing light as he descends. They hunt, initially seein nothing, Gunnar again spots their quarry, this time getting a better look at a long brown tentacle, he can see at least three yards, ended by a peculiar cluster of eyes. The rest of the beast is invisible in the murk. It flees rapidly and they lose its trail. Gunnar yells a torrent of Khazalid curses… only to have them echoed to him a moment later. This however wasn’t the bouncing of sound. Something had tried to mimic what he yelled.

Their pursuit had carried them a couple of hundred yards south and they emerged into the Marktplatz. Reasoning that it was lunchtime they decided to check in on the Sisters’ Bakery. Om and Nom were very pleased to see them and offered them the choice of pies, recommending the venison. Salundra and Ferdinand consumed them with relish and Gunnar, who was in a foul mood, grabbed a sweet apple pie. Glad to see the sisters doing well and wishing them well for the upcoming Marktag, the party began to make their way back to the inn. they hadn’t left the Marktplatz when Gunnar spotted the tentacle protruding from a drain again… he sought the manhole they had emerged from, but initially struggling to lift it. He jumped into the sewer, impatience overcoming prudence, but whatever it is was nowhere to be seen. Gunnar bellowed in frustration and began the smash his fists into the sewer wall. Salundra calmed him, but the Slayer was now deeply frustrated.

They moved sullenly towards the Red Moon Inn. Just as they turned the corner of its street they were accosted by an agitated woman (with a big hat and bit hair!). “Where is it? Where is it?”, she repeated, distress clear on her face. “It is not yours. Return it to me”, she said. When questioned her impatience was impossible to miss. She became increasingly irate with their questions and Ferdinand decided to stun her before they carried her inside. Franz recognised her as Gele and rebuked the party for the stench they’d left when they burned the remnants of the box.

They brought her upstairs and she began to come around quickly. She was still highly agitated, insisting she knew the courier had misdelivered something to them. She wanted it back. When questioned and threatened she gave away little, only her name, Gele V. Draukbur and that ‘he’ was dangerous and wanted the box returned. Whatever hold ‘he’ had over her was enough for her to resist their probing questions. When they told Gele of the fate of the urn, she was visibly distraught. Gunnar stepped aside from the door and she fled quickly. He pursued, only to see she had fallen into the snow just outside the Red Moon Inn, he body wracked with sobs. Gele gathered herself and began to move towards the river. The party pursued her with ease. She wasn’t concerned about concealing her route. Gele stepped aboard a river barge that was moored, untying it quickly and pushing off into the fast current before the party could intervene. They ran along the dock, just about keeping her in sight through the blizzard that was now falling. Salundra and Gunnar lost sight of her, but Ferdinand could just about see the boat. In their haste they missed how slippery patches of the dockside had become… both Ferdinand and Salundra slipping and falling painfully to the ground.

… and we’ll leave it there.

Until next time,

Owen